Ring of Ashes
by Lieutenant Riot
Summary: The ghosts that littered the streets and drifted across splintered windows were no spectral wraiths. They were the husks of those empty people, those who had been crushed as vermin beneath the force of the opposition.


He stood within the circle, a ring of grim nations. The force they had created was tearing through the world as an undeniable wave. Instead of trying to stand and rise alone, they had banded together, a combined army, to take down all countries. These were not within the breed of alliances from previous wars, for no goals were sought after, save that of destruction.

This group no longer resembled the men they had once been. They were now purely nations, suppressing their humanity.

Roderich Edelstein. Eduard Von Bock. Sadiq Adnan. Im Yong Soo. Matthew Williams. Arthur Kirkland.

These six men no longer existed. Though spread across various regions, they had formed an interwoven plan, laced with betrayal and treachery, poison gas and cyanide. It was their combined cunning and will that allowed them to virtually conquer the world as one.

Their conquests stood behind them, an outer layer to this circle. Their hands rested tight around the guns they all held, forced into the position by the thick electric collars bound around their necks. All guns were pointed at the man at the center of the ring. A blonde, bespectacled nation, standing firm with a glower on his face and an empty rifle clutched to his chest.

"America. I'm asking you for the last time. Give up. Give in. You cannot win." The barren green eyes of his home nation stared at him relentlessly. "Look around you. See who has fallen before us."

Arthur's hand moved in an arch, as if showcasing the figures clutching firearms. A look that nearly resembled one of pride adorned his features. A sick, haughty arrogance wafted about his figure.

Ivan Braginski, bearing cuts that still spit blood with vengeance as he wheezed for air around the metal shard that blossomed forth from his chest. His shotgun was balanced unsteadily on his shoulder, trembling every so often.

The once sane eyes of Vash Zwingli burned with a hysterical fire, the disgustingly pallid skin of his face served as a horrid reminder to the biological warfare that decimated his children.

A crutch dug into the ground as to support a nation with only three limbs left intact. The gun wavering precariously as the agonized Honda Kiku fought to keep from collapsing onto the bloodstained dirt while he wobbled on one leg. The familiar hilt of his katana was gone now, replaced by the rough texture of a gun whose name he could not even pronounce.

Germany had been the latest victory for the twisted conquerors; his mouth was still curled into a defiant snarl. He hadn't yet been broken, though the frightening shards of glass and steel bursting from his right flank were quite a sight, coated with balmy, glittering blood. A look at his eyes would expose the truth, for the sharp azure spheres had grown dim, overshadowed by the grim ghost's of defeat. He knew it was over.

With heavy bandages encircling the top half of his face, Antonio Carriedo could only keep his gun in the general direction of the circle. For what can one see of the world when their eyes have been ripped away, leaving them to only imagine their green orbs staring up at a terrified soldier as the color rots into the mud on a faraway battlefield?

The steadfast Berwald Oxenstierna quaked in fear as he clutched desperately to the smaller man by his side with one hand, and a light pistol in the other. He completely ignored the growing stain of red blooming on his left hip, more focused on the petite Tino Väinämöinen_**, whom was adorned with a smile more fit for the green-haired lunatic. The larger man continually jostled the smaller blonde, staring intently to make sure those weak, lavender eyes kept fluttering, if only for the fact that… **____**if they flickered, then Tino was still breathing.**_

_**Wang Yao stood resolute, amber eyes darkened and dull as he watched his younger brother destroy yet another piece of the world alongside his demented companions. Shock had stolen Yao's senses, so he was oblivious to the cascading stream of blood crying from the arm wound that exposed a lengthy section of his crystal-cut bone.**_

Tears dripped from dead the eyes of the eldest Italian brother, his gun half-heartedly aimed at America's chest as he gazed at _his little Feliciano, his stupid fratello, _strewn upon the ground. The younger nation had given way under the devastating effect of his broken spine, and was now motionless, save the twitching of his dilated pupils and the broken prayers pouring from his white lips.

Alfred saw this, saw the devastation and havoc that had been wreaked… Everywhere. No place on the planet was safe anymore; no child in their beds had any more of a chance to survive the night than the soldiers on the field. It was a sad, pathetic way to live, to struggle through. The blonde nation had gone to visit Germany in the final stages of his decline, and as he passed through the lands of once proud countries, all he could see were ghosts.

The ghosts that littered the streets and drifted across open windows were no spectral wraiths. They were the husks of those empty people, those who had been crushed as vermin beneath the force of the opposition. Their hope was shattered. Their nationality slashed. There was nothing that could be done.

"All I see before me is death, England. You have not created an empire. You have built yourselves a cemetery." Alfred murmured these words solemnly, yet in the sterile silence of the blood-soaked plain, the man's voice rang out like a bell.

"Exactly what one would expect to hear from the mouth of an immature _child. _You have no idea what you're talking about, brother. _No idea!_" Matthew's gentle voice had ripped through an octave or two as he neared the end of his exclamation, "The world needs us, America! Everybody was going to fall to pieces anyway, so we're helping by trying to _preserve _what remains. And so long as nations like you, China, and Germany keep getting in our way, we'll use violence to bring you to the light."

"Oh…

"I didn't know that was how you see it… Matthew…?" Alfred's voice trailed away, ending in the pitch of a question as his eyes raised level with his brother, an understanding taking over his eyes.

"Yes, America?"

"Burn in Hell, you lying shitface." His brother and his cohorts had gone completely insane, if not worse. The act of understanding _that _fact was probably the easiest thing he had done in a long while.

Matthew's face had gone stony, and he sighed. The others around him shared a few glances; evidently having done this so many times that it wasn't worth the energy of speaking.

"Well then, America, you leave us no choice." Sadiq's smooth voice rolled through the silence, his mask no longer a pristine white, but a blood smattered black. A gruesome, yet effective result of a new paint job sided with a lack of cleaning.

"No. But I left myself a choice. And I have decided to take the road less traveled." Alfred sighed, this was it. Yet, it wasn't going to play out as he had planned. There were no dramatic scenes of villains pit against heroes. Clichéd catchphrases were strangers to this field, and the movie-like scenario that the man had planned out was for naught. But it didn't matter. He began to unbutton his shirt. "My people have decided, as a whole, that they will not allow you to take the States for yourselves. Our resources could never become yours. They couldn't figure out what to do though, we couldn't stop you; we'd be mowed down as animals. So, we looked to the history books."

"What in Hell are you talking about, you insufferable little fool?" England snarled, his fuse run short from the years of endless violence and bombs. America continued onward, undeterred.

"We actually got the idea from Russia. He tried it once, the most notorious use it received, though he may have also done so later, was during Napoleon's invasion." Ivan's brow furrowed, thoroughly confused. What tactic had he ever used that could help America overpower these ridiculous odds? Unless… No. Not even Alfred was that idiotic. "My scientists took it to the next level, of course, but the initial intent still remains, I think you'll see."

There was a pregnant pause as America shuddered and drew a small device from his pocket.

"Ivan's method of madness was referred to as 'Scorched Earth'."

The silence was deafening to every nation within that clearing. It left Alfred's ears ringing uproariously, and he bit his lip, wondering if he'd be left to explain his suicide mission. Then, Korea began laughing. Not only laughing, but giggling and snorting hysterically. His young face, once so enthusiastic and open, had seen horrors unimaginable, a few atrocities struck by his own fist. He was crippled now; the blows to the boy's mind had been too much. Korea now stood beside his fellows as nothing greater than an empty, cracked shell, leaking dangerous toxins and twisted mirth.

"Do it! Go ahead and try!" The short man snorted again, cackling mockingly, "You, the hero, would never have the guts to kill them. Kill every single one of your children. Not even you are dumb enough for a suicide of such massive proportions."

America's jaw clenched, and he prepared a retort, a defense. He was cut off immediately by an explosion of agony that burst from his left leg; his head whirled as he fought to find the source of the bullet. The conquerors were just as confused, taking a startled moment to look around before all eyes settled on Ludwig's quivering form.

"Fucking _fight them._ Assure your people the best lives possible or no lives at all! Remember who you are, America, andmake your last stand better than mi-" Germany's fuming tirade was cut off abruptly as he fell, a look of absolute astonishment adorning his bloodied face. A sob broke through the outer ring; Kiku's wretched moan trembled from his lips as he stared with blank revulsion at Roderich, who held the switch to the Japanese man's electric collar.

"Why… Why would you ever… M-Make me do… _That…_?" The maimed nation howled, his proud façade beginning to crumble as Ludwig's form stilled, blood welling from the bullet holes in his head. Japan dropped his smoking gun and hung his head. America, biting his lip, turned towards Northern Italy. The auburn-haired boy was too far gone to notice the loss of his blonde companion, and could only to repeat the same wretched prayers again and again. His words went unheard as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, the sky above him glowed a twisted yellow, highlighting the agonized planes of his young face.

"He was growing tiresome, and his land was dying anyway. Ah, would you like to precede with your heroic tirade now, America? We would so enjoy hearing it." Austria flashed the blonde a wolfish grin, refinement discarded.

America sighed, his eyebrows crinkling into each other as he mourned Ludwig for the few precious seconds that could be spared. The tired iris' that had once shone like dying daylight now found themselves watching as living cadavers wasted away before him. He knew if he let himself fall alongside them, hope would be lost. Alfred refused to waver. His people had chosen.

"I expect to be treated as a villain for abandoning the planet, as it is now. But I've already given all I can to those who will rise again, those who hold on." He paused a moment, and moved the button in his hand a bit, reaffirming the grip on his killer, "I can't… Can't let this continue. Matthew and Arthur will be absolutely relishing in my death, even as they roll through the migrating nuclear waste… And all that jazz. But I happily dedicate these fireworks to those who you struck down. If only to name a few." A second pause broke through his speech, and Alfred hung his head, voice lowering, "Belarus and Ukraine. Heracles and Feliks. Elizaveta and Francis. And let's not forget the _entire continent of Africa._"

The young man was left laboring for breath at the end of his furious rant, eyes blazing once more. Guns were shifted as ominous clicks echoed in the blank break.

"Hold on a moment yo-"

"I'll see you in Hell, you revolting bastards." A malicious smirk flowered upon the nation's face as he pressed hard into the heart of the plastic mechanism, effectively obliterating it.

One heartbeat.

Two.

Alfred's eyes widened fractionally and he quickly drew up his hand in a mock salute as his legs promptly folded beneath him as he collapsed to the floor. If one were to glance at the small smile upon his face, they would be able to see the tortured lunacy of a man assured of his ill fate.

Light rushed forward hastily, forcing the closest nations to stumble backwards amongst the cries of loss and longing, overpowered for a moment by a strained shout though it was quick to recede.

After the dust and light began to drift, the six menaces were slow to rise, a few choking harshly on the particles only beginning to drift towards their soil. The seeds of panic were set within their hearts as they imagined upon America's last words. The Revolution would receive endless strength from the collapsed nation, they were certain, though their ability to combat the small threat was not so secure. The conquerors brushed off their fears and barked out orders to move on. They had uncharted land to capture.

As the fallen filed away, they pressed soft respects to the barren swathe of land. His presence lingered on, though no body could be seen. That stupid boy, carried along by an in-love smile, had annihilated himself.

And in his death began the long awaited release.

"_The courage of life is often a less dramatic spectacle than the courage of a final moment, but it is no less than a magnificent mixture of triumph and tragedy. People do what they must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality."  
~ __John F. Kennedy_

**(A/N: Ah, evidently this never happened. If we're lucky, it never will. I'm not quite sure where the idea came from; I just kept imagining America making a speech before blowing himself to bits. Thus, the entire back story sucks a lot of dick. I really don't think that those six countries would actually band together and take over the world. Really, I don't. And I only picked America because I felt that he would be most likely to do something like that. I just needed one within each… region that actually had a Hetalia personification. America's speech, along with the entire second half was horrible, but I'm rushed to finish before my laptop charger dies again. Please alert me to any errors you see.**

**I hope this didn't offend anybody, and I'm really sorry it's so hideous. Thank you for reading.**

**P.S. I can write happy things! I can, I promise. I'm just not good at things that don't involve hurt and pain…)**


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